School would be open. Jack would be devastated.
“But it’s your nativity today,” she cajoled.
“Oh yeah . . . the camel thing.” He thought. “I don’t know my lines! Mrs. Chandler will tell me off. She always tells me off.”
“You have lines? But you’re a camel! Why didn’t you tell me? What lines?”
“They’re at school,” Jack admitted. “In my drawer.”
“Well, they’re no good there are they? Never mind. I am sure Mrs. Chandler will let you practice today. I’m really excited about seeing you.”
Jack drank his milk unenthusiastically.
“Anyhow, what do you mean Mrs. Chandler always tells you off ? I didn’t think there had been anything recently . . . has there?”
“She keeps putting me outside,” he complained. “And I haven’t done anything.”
“She puts you outside the classroom?” said Kate, her anger with Mrs. Chandler gathering strength. “Does she now?” Clearly Kate would need to have a word with Jack’s class teacher about that.
“Come on, monkey boy. We’ve got to go. You’re at Helen’s after school too, remember?”
“Can’t I go to Krish’s house?”
“Nope. You’ve got to go to Helen’s. You like Helen’s.”
“Awwww.” Jack dragged his feet and swung his arms, but Kate ignored him carefully. “What’s my Christmas thing today?” he said, distracted by the lack of response.
“You saw it last night, silly. It’s your nativity play. Doesn’t get much more Christmassy than that.”
“What is it tomorrow?”
“Oi, that’s not the deal. You find out about tomorrow before you go to bed, don’t you? Not now.” Damn, that was another thing. What was his Christmas treat tomorrow? She would have to have a look at the dwindling list. Hopefully something would pop up today and she could slip it into the advent calendar tonight.
Daniel was feeling flat. He stared at his computer screen unseeing, his coffee growing cold beside him. She hadn’t been there when he walked down the street that morning. Instead, there was a large young man with short-cropped ginger hair, hefting the eight-foot trees around as if they were cocktail umbrellas. He was no substitute and Daniel was missing his little daily dose of Kate; not Christmas Tree Girl any longer, but a living, breathing woman with a name. Paul was going to be proud of him. That said, when he had dropped Kate and Jack at home the day before, he had flaked out of asking her when he would see her again. Paul wouldn’t be proud of that. Maybe Daniel wouldn’t mention that bit.
He cast around for something useful to do that didn’t require concentration he didn’t have. Remembering his meeting with the Christmas Steps crowd last night he picked up the phone to his contact in the City Council valuations office.
“Geezer!” said Gideon when Daniel announced himself. “What can I do you for?”
“I suspect, and sincerely hope, that you can’t ‘do me’ at all,” said Daniel and briefly explained.
“Ah yeah, bigger than me, this revaluation thing. The councilors have got it into their heads there’s ‘gold in them thar hills’ and they’re determined. It’s a whole City business rates review. A huge amount of work . . . I don’t expect any sympathy but I’m working my knackers off here, for no more money, and—as an added bonus—everyone hates me.”
“They hated you before, to be fair,” Daniel teased. “I’m sorry to break it to you but it’s your job. On the ‘most hated’ list you’re kind of up there with politicians and estate agents. I sympathize, though. I’m nearly a real estate agent so I get a bit of that myself sometimes. Was it you that did the work on Christmas Steps’ review?”
“It was, as it happens,” Gideon admitted. “They don’t fit the criteria, I grant you. Such a strange little place to value. Square peg, round hole . . . I wasn’t overly impressed with the maintenance on a couple of the properties. I gather the landlord isn’t keen on keeping repairs up to date, which is a bit shortsighted if you ask me . . . If I was looking at the quality of the space, not just the size and location, I might have come up with a different result. So, yeah, funny place: on the one hand terrible access, tiny units, crappy buildings, on the other hand amazingly close to the town center. I’ve got to tell you I could have landed them with an even worse result. If I valued them on Cabot Circus rates per square meter, they’d really have something to complain about.”
“I think they feel they already do,” said Daniel. “Thanks, though, mate. I appreciate it’s not down to you.”
Next, Daniel put a call in to his client Samuel Bird.
“Mr. Bird,” he said, once they had gotten the usual niceties out of the way, “I have been studying your portfolio and I think I may have spotted an opportunity that might be of interest to you.”
“Go on, son, spit it out. I’m a busy man.”
Daniel started with the rateable value changes in Christmas Steps properties and before he got any further, Mr. Bird interrupted.
“There you go, son, the intuition never fails. I don’t mind telling you, I snapped up the freehold on those units for a song. I was clearly right about them being a bargain. Well, you know the drill, roll out rent rises on the next renewal date. I’ll have the full amount they’re worth, thank you very much, the rateable value is the peg.”
“Or . . .” said Daniel, when he could get a word in edgewise, “as the canny businessman you are, I am sure you would be prepared to consider other ways to optimize your investments—ways that may well pay even better dividends in the long run. I mean,” he gambled on Mr. Bird’s ego getting the better of him, “I wouldn’t suggest this to all my clients. With the majority of them you just have to keep things simple, if you know what I mean. They don’t have the business acumen you have . . .”
“All right, all right, flattery will get you everywhere. What are you actually suggesting? To beat a frank rent rise it’s goin’ to ’ave to be bloody good, young man . . .”
Daniel explained the boutique wedding service concept, dropping in the idea that holding the rents down for now could net him a better return in the long run. He also hinted at the possibility that Mr. Bird could be the Dragons’ Den benefactor who would cannily see the opportunities and get the credit, as well as the payback, when the idea took off. He wasn’t entitled to suggest anything of the sort without Grace’s and the other shop owners’ permission, but he was sure they would agree if the deal was right. There was a price tag on the branding and marketing proposal she was proposing, and the money was going to have to come from somewhere.
“All right, laddie, I’ll admit, I’m interested enough . . . but I was only with you a couple of days ago. Why didn’t you mention it then?”
“I didn’t know,” Daniel explained. “It’s all for the taking at the moment—a fresh idea—but I don’t think the opportunity will be around for long once other investors get to hear about it.” In for a penny, in for a pound, thought Daniel. God knows he had stuck his neck out just as far as he was able without breaching the chartered surveyors’ rule book. From his own point of view, he really didn’t fancy having to find a whole new set of tenants for his client once he had ruined and bankrupted the ones Mr. Bird already had. It wouldn’t help anyone if that happened, including poor Noel.
“All right, I’m interested,” Mr. Bird said, with no warmth. “I’d better meet these idiots then, hadn’t I? And soon too, if you’re suggesting someone else will step in.”
Kate had had to rush to the Apple Café because she had been late leaving work. Mr. Wilkins had grabbed her as she was gathering herself up to leave. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t selling enough trees that week, which seemed unfair as sales always tapered off this close to Christmas. Most people had theirs by now—though not she and Jack, admittedly. Her boss’s narrow gray eyes glinted meanly in his fat, red face—his skin like corned beef from too much alcohol and rich food. “Remember your contract renewal,” he said, scanning her up and down appraisingly. “I think yo
u definitely need to make yourself more amenable, young lady. Yes, more amenable.” He half closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “To customers as well.”
Kate shuddered as she relived the conversation. She was half running along the street to the café, feeling the water from the puddles seeping through her shoes.
She burst into the shop. “Sorry! I’m here at last . . . I couldn’t get away . . .”
Brian was sitting at one of the little tables, like a bear at a dolls’ tea party, overspilling from the dainty little chair on all sides. Kate was astonished it would hold his weight. She was so preoccupied with this thought, with her lateness, with the cold, that she barely registered the broad back of the man sitting opposite him. But then she clocked the brown wavy hair curling onto the collar.
When he turned it was like coming home. She met his smiling hazel eyes with her own.
“Hello, stranger,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“You know each other?” said Brian, in surprise.
“Sort of,” explained Kate. “I might have guessed though. Did Zoe work here?”
Daniel nodded. “I’ve not been back much. At all. It’s a bit weird. Brian thought I might be useful with this fund-raising thing, but I don’t know . . .”
“What, you mean ‘We’ve got a crisis—quick, call a chartered surveyor,’” she joked.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Beth’s coming in soon,” said Brian to Daniel. “I thought I’d better warn you.”
“Ah. Thanks. It’ll be good to see her, but . . .”
“Weird?” suggested Brian. “It’s been long enough. You’ve both got to get on with it. Speak of the devil,” he added as they heard a door at the back of the shop close with a distinctive thunk.
They waited, listening to chatter they couldn’t quite distinguish, and then the young woman that Pat and Kate had met the other day came through into the café area.
“Beth,” said Daniel, standing up. “I know . . .” he added as he saw the tears springing from her eyes.
Her face crumpled as he spoke, her mouth making an upside-down smile of misery.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his arms.
She went toward him and the two of them folded together into a hug. Beth barely came up to his chest. Her arms, wrapped around his body, could not quite meet behind him.
He spoke softly into the top of her head and they rocked gently together for long seconds, the silence broken only by the young woman’s sobs.
Kate felt herself welling up as she watched.
“Beth and Zoe were really good friends,” Brian explained. “It’s been hard for her.”
“I really miss her,” Beth wailed, pulling away a little so she could see Daniel’s face.
“Me too,” said Daniel, wrapping her tighter. “Me too . . .”
Eventually, gradually, Beth’s sobs abated and Daniel let her go, handing her a napkin to dry her tears. “Where have you been?” she demanded in her gruff voice, mopping her face.
“I know. I should have come sooner,” he said, sitting back down and gazing after her as Beth returned to the back of the shop, muttering that she had cooking to do.
“Yeah,” said Brian. “You should. So anyway, now you’re here you can make yourself useful. Kate, what do you need us to do?”
“Well, it’s just to follow up on the conversations you had with Pat the other day, Brian.”
“Wonderful woman, that Pat,” acknowledged Brian, stroking his beard.
Daniel and Kate exchanged a smile.
“She certainly is,” said Kate. “So, there’s the bake-off and the mince pie giveaway . . .”
“Giveaway?” interrupted Brian. “Can’t we sell them?”
Kate shook her head, regretfully. “No, I double-checked with the legal guys and it’s tricky. But we can ask for donations. The main thing is to get the team here, along with Portman Brothers staff, to give away the mince pies outside the store and to get these flyers into people’s hands, showing them where you are, your offer, your opening hours, that kind of thing.”
“Flyers,” said Brian. “That’s the thing . . .”
“That might be something for me,” interjected Daniel. “If it’s a simple design—what?—one third of A4, something colorful, visuals and a grabby headline on one side, map and opening hours on the other.”
“Sounds perfect,” said Brian. “And we’d need perhaps a thousand?” he looked at Daniel apologetically.
“I think two thousand,” said Daniel. “No harm in having some left over. I am sure they’ll come in useful.”
“Also, don’t underestimate how many people we could reach,” said Kate. “Honestly, on a Saturday morning leading up to Christmas, you can barely move for bodies outside the store. I should have thought two thousand was definitely more like it.”
“I reckon you need five thousand then,” said Daniel. “My firm will cover the costs. I’ll have a word with our directors. Maybe we could have our logo on the bottom somewhere?”
“Done,” said Brian and Kate simultaneously.
“And you mentioned Saturday, so I assume you mean this Saturday?” he said, getting out his phone and tapping in a note to himself. “That’s not long.”
“Last Saturday before Christmas, so that’ll be the one,” said Brian.
“Sorry,” said Kate. “It’s all been a bit last minute. Is that going to be okay?”
“Three days? I’ll make it work,” said Daniel. “Blimey, it’s less than a week ’til Christmas then, you know.”
“I do,” said Brian. “You can come and help. Beth would love to have you there. If you still need to do Christmas shopping, and I bet you do, we might let you sneak off and do it.”
“I’ve not really got anyone to buy for this year,” said Daniel. “I’d better get something for Paul and Cara. They’re getting married, did you know?”
“I didn’t,” said Brian. “Congratulate them for me, could you?”
“Brilliant, so that’s the mince pie giveaway. I was thinking about maybe carol singing too, but that might be complicating things unnecessarily.”
“Agreed. It’s better that the public has a chance to chat with staff rather than hear them sing, although Beth, for one, has got a sweet little singing voice, when she gets over her shyness. You don’t want to hear this one giving it ‘Good King Wenceslas,’ though, I can assure you,” he added, indicating Daniel with an inclination of his head.
Kate giggled. “No singing then. And the next thing is the bake-off competition,” she said, scribbling a note on her notebook.
“Logistically, it’s better our staff do their baking for entries here. And perhaps Portman Brothers staff could do theirs at home. We just need to sort out the categories, and actually . . . he reached into his pocket and extracted a folded piece of paper, “I just put this down,” he said, spreading the paper on the table for them all to read.
“Five categories,” read Kate. “Christmas cake, mince pies, stollen, raised game pie, signature bake. Cool.”
“Pat and I decided there would be no entry fee; we don’t want to put people off. But they have to donate everything they submit for judging, and we’ll raffle it all off afterwards.”
“How about an auction? Better than a raffle, surely?” said Daniel. “I’ve got a friend who’s an auctioneer. I’ll get her to come with her gavel. We’ll do it in the store?” he looked inquiringly at Kate.
“I think the board would love that. They’re the ones with the deep pockets. I’ll make sure they’re all there. It’ll create a bit of a buzz in store too.” Kate was scribbling it all down, then she had a thought. “We need to let the local media know.”
“I’ll do that,” said Brian. “I’m onto them often enough about other bits and bobs, usually to no avail,” he admitted. “You grow a thick skin running a charity. But I think they’ll like this.”
Kate was glancing anxiously at her watch, hoping the two men wouldn’t notice. She had to g
et home and get changed, then get to Jack’s school in time for the nativity. The last thing Jack wanted was his mum turning up in an elf costume. She felt enough of a fool having to wear it to the café because she hadn’t had enough time to change.
“So, we’re pretty much done, aren’t we?” said Daniel, noticing her anxiety. “I should maybe get together a quick poster for the bake-off competition entries too. For the staff here and the staffroom at Portman Brothers?”
“Brilliant,” said Kate, getting to her feet. “That would be fab. Thank you.”
“I’ll do it tonight. I could drop it off with you tomorrow morning? I’m not supposed to be at work—enforced holiday—but I’ve been ‘allowed’ to come in for the monthly staff meeting at nine.”
“I won’t be there when you come past,” said Kate, regretfully. “My shift starts at ten tomorrow.”
Neither of them wanted to suggest he drop them with Pat, or just into the store. Daniel thought for a beat.
“Jack wants to come and see the boat,” he said. “Why don’t you both come after school tomorrow? I’ll be there, wondering what to do with my time . . .”
Kate sighed and the tension in her shoulders fell away. “Perfect,” she said. “I’d like that.” The thought that it would be only a day until she saw Daniel again filled her with a sense of relief. Again, there was that feeling: the one that made her daydream about how lovely it would be to have someone in her life. A grown-up someone, as obviously she had Jack.
But then, instantly, there was a feeling of guilt that she was allowing herself the possibility of replacing Tom. She never could. It was as simple as that. Best to weather life alone than face that possibility of devastating loss again, surely?
She barely had time to get back to the flat to change, but she did it anyway because going straight to the school would make her early and it wasn’t her favorite place to hang around at the moment. A quick shower and change, putting on warmer clothes, and she was back out of the door, checking her watch anxiously. Just let there be a bus . . .
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